


Colors

by loeysxdaisies



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, but happy ending, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loeysxdaisies/pseuds/loeysxdaisies
Summary: Pastels and neons, and how they do, or don’t, fit together





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse for this other than my stress levels are through the roof and this was a good 3 hour break from my studies
> 
> also: this fic has the warnings of domestic abuse and suicide!! please, PLEASE don't read if those topics make you uncomfortable in any way/shape/form. this is your warning, please don't come to me later because you're upset that you read this with the content!!
> 
> it is NOT chanyeol abusing baekhyun, or vice versa
> 
> chanyeol is NOT the one to drive baekhyun to suicide, or vice versa
> 
> but again, you've been warned!!
> 
> (there is an alternate ending bookmarked about halfway through, and the actual ending itself is at the very end of the story)

A universe in which people can feel their soulmates through colors. People are associated with a specific set of colors, and their soulmate can feel them and their feelings based on what shade their colors are. Colors don’t change shades, necessarily, but they get deeper and brighter and darker and lighter with their mood changes.

Soulmates can feel their partner’s colors in the warmth (or lack of) in their chest and like a gentle buzz in the back of their head. A few colors are universal—bright orange for pain, deep blue for longing, pure white for love and then, everyone’s fear, pure blackness for death.

Park Chanyeol was born under the vibrant neon—like the bright reds and blues of a light sign outside of a club in the middle of the night. He was bright, happy, and positive, always dressed in graphic t-shirts, leather jackets, and ripped skinny jeans. He made it work without looking like a mess—in fact, he was the heartthrob of his high school and a killer in college. He was tall and handsome, kind and caring, emotional and strong yet mysterious and suave—a total package.

Yet, to all the girls’ dismay, he was patiently waiting for his soulmate.

Park Chanyeol had his fair share of hookups, of course, like anyone else, and minor relationships that would never get too deep, because he was waiting for his soulmate.

He was waiting for the boy he could feel, the one he’d had a connection with since the day his soulmate was born in a flurry of pastels—pinks and blues and soft creams that made Chanyeol so, so warm inside his chest.

He couldn’t _wait_ to meet him.

From what Chanyeol gathered, his soulmate was bright and happy, excited by the little things for he got overwhelming giddy multiple times a day. He must have been a clumsy boy, though, for the bright flashes of orange which started out few and far in between became more and more common. While the flashes were once met with a bright pink of his soulmate’s surprise, now they were met with his trademark pastel blue deepening with dread—all around similar times of the day, and almost always in the evening or night. Sometimes the orange would be so vivid that it would wake Chanyeol up anywhere between one and five in the morning, and Chanyeol wondered if his soulmate perhaps lived on the other side of the world, if that was why he was always up so late. How would they meet?

As they grew up Chanyeol’s colors only got more vivid, red and blue brightening as he grew out of his awkward lanky stage of junior high into high school (where he grew into his feet and ears), and into college (where he bulked up and became an actual god, having girls and boys throwing themselves at him left and right).

His soulmate, though, his colors got darker and deeper. Whereas when they were kids the pink and blue balanced each other out, the transition from junior high to high school brought with it more shades of blue. Pink still popped up at certain times, of course, but the blues far outweighed it—all in different shades, all dark and negative and dreadful and—and _scared_. Chanyeol had to admit, he was worried. There was nothing he could do, though, so instead, he tried being even more positive, hoping his soulmate could feel his happiness and hoping it would make him happy, too. The flashes of orange never went away.

Whoever his soulmate was must have been around the same age as him—they both felt the overwhelming happiness on the days of their graduation (pastel boy graduated the day after him, so he must have been from a different school), a bit of nervousness creeping in among the excitement. Chanyeol’s soulmate was a bit more muted, but he could feel the happiness coming from the boy. That was the most pink he’d seen in nearly a year.

College was a new beginning—for both Chanyeol _and_ his soulmate. Chanyeol got his first tattoo (and then two more, don’t tell his mom), dyed his hair a couple times (his favorite shade was silver—and he was _rocking_ it), and was finally able to pursue his passion in music with people who shared the commonality. He made new friends, took care of his body and kept his grades up. He was so, _so_ happy.

It’s too bad his soulmate wasn’t, too.

The first few weeks of college were filled with the pinks and blues of his childhood, giving Chanyeol hope that whatever had been plaguing his soulmate so horribly the past few years was behind him with whatever he was doing now. They dropped quickly, though, and after a month he was back to the deep blues that had plagued him for the last few years of school.

There was one night when Chanyeol was up late studying for an exam, headphones in and matching interval series on his sheet music to what he was hearing through his speakers, when there was a spark of orange so vibrant that Chanyeol could feel the pain in his chest and he couldn’t help but cry out, dropping his sheets and falling out of his chair. Both his hands flew to his chest in a panic and his friends, Minseok and Jongin, fell to their knees next to him.

“What is it?” Minseok asked quickly. “Chanyeol, what’s wrong?”

“Orange,” he managed in a strained voice.

“Okay, just breathe.” Jongin pulled Chanyeol’s head in his lap and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s happened with me and Sehun before, you’ll be okay. It’ll pass.”

“But—what’s wrong with him?” Chanyeol was crying now—he was so, so scared and he had no idea what his soulmate could possibly be going through for this to be happening. Again. “Why is this happening?”

“There must have been an accident.” Minseok took one of Chanyeol’s hands in his and began massaging it, warming his fingers and slowly uncurling his fist. “Try and relax.”

It passed, and an hour later Chanyeol was grabbing his car keys and covering his silver hair with a black snapback.

“Where are you going?” Minseok looked up from his neuropsychology textbook worriedly.

“Just for a drive.” Chanyeol pocketed his wallet and held the keys up between his thumb and forefinger. “I need to clear my head.”

“After earlier, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I’ll be fine,” Chanyeol waved Jongin off. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” He was out the door before either of them could try and stop him again.

Chanyeol drove down an old, two-lane road that went around the undeveloped area of the city—full of open land and trees and old farmhouses that held nice old men and ladies. There was a bridge further down, one that was lit by one streetlight on each side of the rails, and it was there that Chanyeol slammed on the breaks of his car once he caught sight of a figure hovering on the outside of the rail, hanging out over the ledge.

But it wasn’t just _any_ figure, Chanyeol realized as he was flooded with a whirlwind of colors and feelings all at once. This was his _soulmate_.

And he was going to jump.

“Hey!” Chanyeol didn’t pull his keys from the ignition, yanking the parking brake and leaping from the car, abandoning it in the middle of the road. “Hey, what are you doing?”

**((alternate ending at the end))**

“What does it look like?” The male shot back bitterly, glancing over his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

“No.” Chanyeol shook his head and came to a stop about five feet from the rail. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?” His soulmate turned around and looked so—so _broken_ , and it was then that Chanyeol realized that he knew they were soulmates, too. “Why can’t anyone just leave me alone?”

There was some sort of a bruise on the side of his head, and upon closer inspection, Chanyeol saw what he assumed to be blood dried in his eyebrow and down his cheek.

“What happened?” Chanyeol took another step towards the boy, who yelled and leaned over further.

“Stop! I’ll—I’ll jump. I’ll do it!”

“Okay! Okay, just, hold on a second.” Chanyeol took two steps back and held his hands up in surrender. “What’s your name?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.” The boy shook his head, adjusting his grip on the railing. His hold was tight, and it dawned on Chanyeol that he _didn’t_ want to jump.

“What happened to your face?”

“Nothing. Can’t you just go? I’d like to at least die in peace.”

“But you see,” Chanyeol took a couple steps towards the boy. “Now you’ve sparked my curiosity. I can’t just let you go, I want to hear the story.”

“You must be at least a level three friend to unlock my tragic backstory, Romeo.” Chanyeol bit the inside of his cheek— _of course_ , his soulmate would be a mouthy little fucker. He’d fit Chanyeol perfectly.

“How about a level one soulmate?”

“Not qualified.”

“That’s a shame.” During the span of their conversation, Chanyeol had taken more steps towards the boy on the rail, and he was nearly right behind him. The boy jumped in surprise when Chanyeol leaned his elbows on the rail, six inches to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“That’s quite a fall,” Chanyeol observed. He turned to look at his soulmate. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Can’t you just go?”

“Why do you want to do this?” Chanyeol asked instead of answering.

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“You’re the kind of guy who can get anyone to tell you anything, I can tell.” The boy huffed and took a shaky breath. “Kindly fuck off.”

“Maybe it’s a soulmate thing.” It was a dirty move, playing the soulmate card, but when the boy winced Chanyeol knew he had struck a chord. “Come on, talk to me. You need to talk to someone right now, and I promise I’m not a total shithead.”

“Please, just let me do this.” The boy turned around on the rail and held on. Chanyeol stood up and walked over so he was standing right in front of him, hands shoved in his pockets. “Please.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well, I’m here now. If the police find out that I was here they’ll need me to make a report, and I want all the facts.” Chanyeol held his hand out, offering it to the boy to help him back to the ground.

“Please,” the boy begged again. “I can’t—I can’t do it anymore. It’s all just too much, I—just go. I don’t want you to see this, see me like this, I—please.” His resolve was crumbling, Chanyeol just needed to keep talking.

“Why don’t you just come here, okay? Come down, and let’s talk.” Chanyeol stayed where he was with his hand outstretched, not wanting to scare the poor boy more than he obviously already was. “I’m Chanyeol.”

“B-Baekhyun.” The boy let go of the rail with his right hand and reached towards Chanyeol’s.

“It’s nice to meet you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol smiled softly. He felt his soulmate’s—Baekhyun’s—colors glowed with the soft pink, one which Chanyeol hadn’t felt since they were kids. Baekhyun’s tiny, shaky hand reached for Chanyeol’s and Chanyeol encased it in his warm, steady one. Baekhyun’s other hand still had a death grip on the rail, though, so tight his knuckles were white and straining.

“Come on, you’re doing great,” Chanyeol nodded his head and held out his other hand for Baekhyun’s. “Give me your other hand and I’ll help you.”

“No.” That was the clearest, most confident word Baekhyun had said that night.

“No?”

“You’re so—you’re so _nice.”_ Baekhyun let out a sob. “Why are you so nice?”

“Why not?” Chanyeol tightened his grip on Baekhyun’s hand when his soulmate tried to pull it away.

“Everyone is always so _mean_ and you’re so _nice_.” Baekhyun pulled on his hand again, nearly falling back off the ledge he was standing on.

“Whoa, hey. Hold on.” Chanyeol took a step forward to solidify his stance and keep Baekhyun from falling by his hand in his. “Breathe, okay? You can tell me about it over here, on _this_ side of the rail, right?”

“What if I don’t want to?” Baekhyun glared through his tears. “What if I _want_ to die?”

“Maybe you do,” Chanyeol acknowledged. “Maybe you want to die, that’s—sure. But you don’t deserve to die like _this_ , Baekhyun. I know you. I’ve known you our entire lives, and you know what?” He took a breath and looked into Baekhyun’s eyes. “You _don’t_ want to die.”

Baekhyun stayed silent. Chanyeol kept going.

“You’re scared. You’re so scared of _everything_ and you’re scared of this, too. You’re scared of being hurt—I get that. I do. Everyone is. But this,” Chanyeol gestured with his free hand towards the black water below the bridge. “This is _not_ the way to deal with it.”

“But you—” Baekhyun swallowed nervously. “You’ve never been scared of anything. You’re always so—so _confident_ , and you have a handle on your life, and—”

“I’ve never been more terrified in my life than I am right now.” Chanyeol cut him off, and Baekhyun could feel the truth—could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, and feel it in the vibrancy of the blue in the back of his mind.

Chanyeol’s neon, roadside blue had complimented Baekhyun’s own pastel one so well once upon a time, back when they were kids.

And maybe, just maybe, they could match again.

“Baekhyun, please, I’m begging you.” Chanyeol held his other hand out again, “ _please_ , come over here, and we can talk.”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Baekhyun shook his head. “I’m a bother to _everyone_ , and the last person I want to bother is you.”

“Baekhyun.” Chanyeol sighed and smiled softly. “You could never, _ever_ be a bother to me, I promise.”

The look in his eyes was so genuine and real that Baekhyun didn’t hesitate to grab Chanyeol’s other hand and allow the male to help him back over the railing, settling his feet on the asphalt.

The second his feet hit the ground Baekhyun burst into tears, throwing himself into Chanyeol as his knees came out from under him. Chanyeol enveloped him in warm, thick, sturdy arms and rested his chin on his head, humming softly and rubbing his back as Baekhyun sobbed.

“You’re okay, I’m here.” Chanyeol pressed a kiss to the crown of Baekhyun’s head. “I’m right here.”

Baekhyun allowed himself to be lifted up, and Chanyeol walked over to his car where he sat down on the ground, his back braced against the front passenger side wheel and Baekhyun curled up in his lap. He wasn’t sure if it was minutes later or hours, but eventually, Baekhyun’s sobs subsided enough that he was simply whimpering. Chanyeol gently hooked his chin and lifted his head, eyeing the injuries to his face.

“Who did this to you?”

“It’s none of—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say that it’s none of my business.” Chanyeol shook his head. “I just talked you down from killing yourself, Baekhyun. Who did this?”

“My stepfather.” He admitted, blinking in an attempt to clear the tears from his eyes. “He’s—angry, a lot. And he drinks. I got a call from my sister that he was freaking out, threatening her and my mom and I—I went back. He promised he wouldn’t hurt them if I took it and I did and—I’m so tired, Chanyeol.” Chanyeol reached back and pulled his faux-leather jacket off, draping it over the trembling boy’s shoulders. He was wearing a thick hoodie, but Chanyeol had a feeling he wasn't shivering from the  _cold._

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since he married my mom.” Baekhyun looked down and Chanyeol cupped his cheek, brushing away a tear. “I was seven.”

“All that orange, the whole time—”

“It’s been him. It’s always been him.” Baekhyun nodded weakly. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Chanyeol promised. “I’m here now, I’ll help you. Have you gone to the police?”

Baekhyun shook his head. “I’ve always been too scared.”

“Well, um, okay. Do you live with him?”

Baekhyun shook his head again. “I’m in school, I live on campus.”

“What school?”

“Yonsei.”

“Me too.” Chanyeol let out a soft laugh and ran a hand through Baekhyun’s hair, brushing a few flakes of dried blood out from his bangs when he did. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds my soulmate, of all people, would be the one to find me as I’m on the verge of throwing myself off a bridge?” Baekhyun snorted. “The universe is a bitch.”

“It is.” Chanyeol agreed. “Listen, Baekhyun, I don’t know what you want to do, if anything, but you know I’m here for you, right? I’ll be with you for whatever you want.”

Baekhyun nodded.

“Until you decide, would you like to come home with me?”

Baekhyun blinked. _Home_. He’d never really had one of those. He’d always been all over the place, running from his stepfather and never really settling down, never feeling safe enough to _allow_ himself to settle down.

Here, though, in Chanyeol’s arms with Chanyeol’s jacket around his shoulders, he’d never felt more relaxed. He’d never felt so _safe_.

“Yeah.” Baekhyun smiled softly, and Chanyeol thought he would die. Baekhyun had the most beautiful smile. “Yeah, I think I would.”

 

**((alternate ending: WARNING: SUICIDE. Please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable in any way!))**

The boy jumped—fell?—it seemed he hadn’t even heard Chanyeol yelling for him. Chanyeol froze—one hand outstretched as if he could reach the boy, stop him from falling. Everything was silent, eerily still, and then he collapsed, slamming his head on the concrete when he did. Everything was spinning. A hole was in his chest, giving him the feeling of emptiness and unbearable pain. He couldn't move, he couldn't get up, something was weighing down on him and making it hard to breathe.

And his soulmate—

Everything was black.

**Author's Note:**

> this is totally unedited so don't destroy me too much?? 
> 
> i'm almost done with the next benefits chapter! i have 1 more exam on monday, then i'll do the final editing, so it should be up by next wednesday/thursday. i'm so sorry, i've been so busy, but the document is open on my computer i promise it will be posted just as soon as i can!!
> 
> in other news
> 
> when will exo come back from war TTTT WE WANT A COMEBACK SM YOU COWARDS
> 
> **whimpering** park chanyeol has silver hair and i cannot handle it i'm sensitive help me. and that video with toben i'M **what a daddy holy fuck**
> 
> come say hi to me on twitter!! [loeysxdaisies](https://twitter.com/loeysxdaises)
> 
> curious cat for those of you shy little beans (i'd still love hear from you!) [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/loeysxdaisies)


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